


Trembling

by MCUsic_to_my_ears



Series: Whumptober 2019 [9]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fear, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Precious Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Whump, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-27 05:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21113588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MCUsic_to_my_ears/pseuds/MCUsic_to_my_ears
Summary: Peter smells Skip's cologne at the mall.***Whumptober 2019 Day 20: Trembling





	Trembling

Morgan raced down the hallway and bolted on top of the nearest chair. “Peter!” she called. “Peter, can I please?” she motioned towards the credit card slot on the leather chair. For five dollars, she could get a ten minute massage. 

Peter shook his head, laughing. He walked quickly past several small shops to catch up with her. “Sorry, Mo, but we’re under strict instructions to get you a dress and get out. We don’t want to keep your mom waiting at the museum.” 

“But I don’t wanna go to the museum,” Morgan pouted, taking Peter’s hand nonetheless as he prompted her off the cracking chair. “Everyone’s old and grumpy,” she whined. 

“You got me there,” Peter smiled, swinging their intertwined hands. He adjusted the subtle ear plugs Pepper had slid him before sending the pair out the door with her credit card. He was wildly appreciative, and had a feeling the small devices would be accompanying him to school soon, since those hallways were even louder than the mall’s on a Wednesday afternoon. The decreased sensory input made the experience far more enjoyable. Morgan knew her brother hated loud noises, which was why she was surprised when Peter flinched violently as they neared the Macy’s without any shouts or alarms going off. 

Suddenly, Peter had lifted her in his arms and was half-jogging towards the nearest bathroom. 

“Peter?” Morgan asked, tapping his shoulder. His eyes were wide and he didn’t respond to her increasingly insistent cries. “Peter, where are we going? Peter, stop it!” He hugged her tighter, breathing heavily, even though he hadn’t run far, just to the nearest empty corridor that lead into the bowels of the mall. 

Peter set her on the ground before nearly collapsing onto his knees himself. He tucked his head in his arms, whole body tight as a wire. 

“Peter?” Morgan whispered, setting a hand on her brother’s back. He flinched violently. Morgan tugged on the panic button hanging around her neck, knowing they needed help, but unsure of whether triggering Uncle Happy, Uncle Rhodey, and half the NYPD to descend upon their location would actually be help. Thankfully, Peter made the decision for her. He fumbled with his phone blindly for a moment before Karen asked, “Peter, what are five things you can see?”

Morgan sniffled as Peter shook his head. “Can’t-” he croaked, pulling at his hair. 

“Peter,” Morgan whined. “Listen to her, please?” The little girl had never felt this helpless. She held Peter’s hand, heart pounding. 

After much effort, her brother lifted his head. Morgan squeezed his hand. 

“Wall. ‘No Exit’ sign.” He blinked hard, struggling for breath. “Morgan. Doors. Um.” He struggled to focus. “Um, floor.”

“Good job, Peter,” the AI asserted softly. Morgan nodded in agreement. She had never seen Peter like this before. She didn’t like it. “Can you please tell me four things you can hear?” 

The boy nodded, a little more confident. “PA system buzz. Morgan’s pulse. Cash registers. Footsteps.”

“You are doing great, Peter,” Karen encouraged. “What are three things you can feel?”

“Socks. Shirt.” He fumbled for a moment. Shifting his body around as if just realizing he had one. Morgan squeezed his hand. “Morgan.” 

“And two things you can smell?”

Peter stiffened, letting go of Morgan’s hand to tug his hair gruffly. Morgan hovered next to her brother. Just like that, he was shaking all over and panting. 

“Peter, what do you smell?” Karen repeated. 

“Him,” Peter ground out. 

Morgan flinched at the fear in her brother’s voice. 

“Peter, Mr. Wescott has not left the New York Penitentiary in seven years.”

“Smell him,” Peter insisted, picking at his jeans. “He’s-”

“Would you like to hear his most recent activities?”

“I- I.” Peter rocked so hard his head nearly collided with the concrete floor. “Yes.” 

“Mr. Wescott spent approximately thirty minutes in the library after his noon meal. He then went to the gym and ran around the track for approximately forty five minutes. He is now in his cell, reading.”

“Not here,” Peter surmised, shoulders relaxing slightly. 

“No, Mr. Wescott is not here.”

“Smelled him.”

“You walked by a men’s cologne booth approximately thirty seconds before your panic attack,” Karen supplied. 

“Oh.” A final shuddering breath left Peter and he sat up. He blinked for a moment before turning.

“Peter?” Morgan asked softly. Tears welled in her eyes. 

“Oh, no, Morgan. I’m okay, I promise. Did I scare you?”

She nodded, blinking hard, but refusing to pull her hands away from Peter’s to wipe her tears. 

“Hey, Mo, it’s okay.” Peter’s arms enveloped her and he swayed her slightly, even as she felt his own core still trembling. 

She held him tightly, afraid of what would happen if he let go. 

“I’m sorry, Morgan. I didn’t mean to scare you. I promise.”

“Can we go home?” Morgan asked softly. 

Peter nodded, slowly pulling himself to his feet. “Of course, Mo. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Morgan insisted, joining him. She quickly captured her brother’s hand in her own. 

“No.” Peter shook his head. “You weren’t supposed to see that. I never wanted you to see that.”

“It’s okay. You’re better now.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am, Mo.”


End file.
